Lola's Theme
by willowflickerman
Summary: Coriolanus Snow, President of Capitol Productions, has Caesar Flickerman and Lola Lenoire right where he wants them...


The first few images were nothing to write home about, merely snapshots of two people eating together, talking and laughing, simply enjoying the gorgeous morning sunshine and one another's company. Then the tone of the photographs changed, just as the mood on the terrace had done when I'd reminded Caesar I would be jetting off to London the following day. I don't think he'd forgotten, more that he was genuinely trying to block out the fact that soon our little honeymoon period would be over and we'd both have to go back to our lives. His would remain pretty much the same. Mine, on the other hand, was set to change so immensely that I believe he was concerned for me. I think he was worried how I would handle the pressure of being on the road so much of the time, how I would deal with a new agent, and that morning I'd tried to reassure him that I would be fine. I promised to keep in touch with him as much as I could, but the truth was, no amount of Skyping, or Facetiming, or Whatsapping was going to be enough for us, and we'd both known it.  
Despite the openness of our surroundings, I hadn't hesitated to allow myself to be pulled into his arms when he'd stretched them out, and from there on out, the photographer had gone crazy, snapping away at maybe five second intervals, capturing every beautiful, private moment between Caesar and I, cheapening it like it was no more than the stills of some badly filmed porn movie.  
Me gazing at him with unadulterated adoration, my head cupped between his hands as he kissed me with the same fierce passion he had used ever since that first night, and both of us, breathless, when we had pulled apart.  
After that, the pictures became a little more grainy, as though the photographer had zoomed in so as not to miss anything. They were still unmistakably of us, though. Caesar's fingers hooked into the straps of the primrose yellow cami I had been wearing, his head pressed against my breasts whilst mine rolled back, exposing the smooth line of my throat. My hands clutched in his hair, sliding under the loose blue shirt. Then me, sat astride him, his palms gripping my hips, stark desire in his eyes as he watched me riding him.  
Even as revulsion took hold of me that the precious time we had shared had been violated, I couldn't help but feel a little fascinated by the photographs, couldn't help wishing that Caesar was there beside me, to reminisce, to remember the need, the urgency we had felt for one another at the time they had been taken.  
The entire half an hour or so we had spent there had been recorded on that camera, nothing had been sacred. Every kiss, every caress, every thrust was there in front of me, in blazing colour. The evidence Snow would use to take Caesar down if he refused to cooperate.  
"I misread the situation at first," Snow commented, when I'd finally finished looking through the stack of images and had tucked them neatly back into the envelope from whence they'd come.  
"Meaning?" I asked, in as level a voice as I could muster.  
"Well, Caesar didn't seem to much care that I intended to expose him as a sexual predator - "  
"He is not a predator!" I growled hotly, my eyes narrowing ominously. If only that would mean something to Snow, I thought, but I was powerless against him. He knew it. I knew it.  
"Do you know something?" the president said conversationally. "I think you're right. I don't think he is, either. I think it was just you." He paused, and then: "However, I don't believe the courts will see it that way, and all those thugs in prison certainly won't look at it like that."  
The sudden realisation must have shown in my face, because Snow broke into a smile that showed no anger, no malice. No remorse. If he didn't get what he wanted, he would personally make sure Caesar was found guilty and served time.  
Life as I knew it was now over.  
"What do I need to do?"  
"Come back to Capitol Productions. You can bounce between there and Panem Records, depending on what we need you for."  
"I've still got fifteen months left on my contract with - "  
"We'll take care of D13 for you. You'll go back to France, finish your shoot there and we will fly you back directly, for an immediate start at Capitol."  
"And if I do this, Caesar doesn't have to flinch everytime a police cruiser drives by?"  
"He'll be as safe as houses."  
I didn't have a choice.  
"Okay," I nodded.  
"Excellent! I'll have arrangements made immediately. On behalf of Capitol Productions and Panem Records, welcome back to the family, Miss Lenoire."  
As I stood up to leave, another thought struck me.  
"You said Caesar didn't seem to care about you exposing him, so why did he agree to stay on?"  
Snow rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, considering me for a long moment before answering:  
"Even from the very beginning of our little talk, he was far more concerned at what this could do to you, to your career, and when he appeared to be less than worried about himself, I pointed out that you could lose all credibility if this came to light... I mean, what with entering Panem's Got Talent with false papers, pushing yourself into a sexual relationship with your mentor knowing you were underage, there's enough there to discredit you for the rest of your life, not to mention the names people would call you..."  
"You're despicable."  
"I didn't get to the top and stay here by being sweetness and light, Lola," Snow informed me coldly. "You both do your jobs well, and all your dirty little secrets remain stashed away from the public eye. You can go."


End file.
